Living in the bush as a so-called “missionary”  has many interesting adventures.  One of them is “cathing babies”!  Well nearly!  I wonder what is up with babies wanting to enter this world at unholy hours.  To make things just a little bit worse is the fact that in Africa expecting moms always wait until it is too late.  The baby is about to say “hi” to the world when the mother usually arrives in a wheelbarrow.  Yes, you heard right!  A wheelbarrow.

The “mother-to-be” arrives in the “bush ambulance”.

 Bush paths are too small for any vehicle and I have yet to try and fit a pregnant mother on my motorbike.  And so it happened last night again.  An anxious call from the bush.  And seeing that we are the only people within a 40 km radius who has a vehicle that means playing ambulance.  Now I have once had a birth on my backseat due to the bad bush roads.  The screams of the lady behind me (already in labour) was terrifying to say the least.  I softly prayed and thanked the Lord that I am from Mars and prayed feverishly for my passenger from Venus.  She made the trip and named the baby after me (and I was thankful)!

As is the custom – the whole family is part of the “new born adventure”.  There is singing, screaming, worried faces and lots of hands to help the “new mother”.  By the looks of it nobody is actually calm. Oh the joys of motherhood!

This time around though I asked my wife to come to the rescue.  She drove deep into the bush to meet the “screaming” lady (must be a woman thing) being transported on bad bush paths.  She was not the only one screaming for help as the family joined her in an opera of expectancy.  A sight to behold, my wife tells me.

Luckily again we had no baby in the car – who knows we might have called her “Ford” or “Fordie”!  They both made it in one piece to the hospital.  And praise the Lord – we survived yet another baby born in the dark!